A Note From The Author (9/15/24)

I originally got the idea for this story after the announcement that Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., a television spinoff of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, was picked up to go to series. It got me thinking that this would be an excellent idea for the X-Film universe as well. There's a lot of characters in X-Men side of Marvel that could be interesting to see brought into the films, but who might not have the familiarity among the general public to be able to carry one themselves. However, a weekly, hour-long, live-action drama would be an excellent way to introduce these characters and build up the necessary recognition.

This ambitious project is the result. I first began publishing it in 2013 in 13 episode "seasons." By 2014 I'd reached the halfway mark of Season 2, ("Legacy") at which point a combination of writer's block and real life issues lead to the series getting put on an indefinite hiatus. However, as of July 2024 I've picked things back up again with a goal of at least finishing out Season 2.

The "episodes" to follow will be a mix of original stories and others adapted from the books themselves, set in 2013 within Marvel's Earth-10005 universe as of Days of Future Past. All films after that (Apocalypse, Logan, Deadpool, etc.) will not be part of this story's continuity. Thus, this is going to be my own interpretation of how the timeline was altered prior to the final "new future" scene of DoFP. Some events may still have happened as in the original X-men trilogy, others have been retconned out (especially X3).

The main inspiration for this series will be New X-Men by Christopher Yost and Craig Kyle, while also drawing on DeFelippis and Weir's preceding run on the book under the title Academy X. There will also be plots inspired or adapted from stories throughout the history of the X-Men, and wherever possible I will be crediting those works as it becomes relevant. The goal is to create something halfway between an action series and drama, where not all the conflict will involve massive battles between super-powered beings (got to think of the budget, you know). Above all, these stories will be predominantly driven by the characters and their relationships and interactions with one another.

So, without further ado, I bring you the pilot episode of X-Men: New Class.


X-Men: New Class

1x01

Genesis

###

Act I

###

"In the beginning there was darkness, and then God breathed light into the universe. In this new light life sprung up, shaped by His hand. Greatest of all the creatures of the earth was Man, formed in His image. But Man was corruptible, and the powers of darkness twisted many into wicked abominations."

Alkali Lake, 2003...

He watched him walk away, one of the specimens cradled in his arms as if it were an actual child and not the inhuman freak of nature it actually was. As they faded from view through the trees the thing stuck its forked tongue out at him, and then the pair was gone, and all he could do was scream impotently at the man he had created, the man who owed everything he was to him. He was the most perfect instrument of death ever crafted by man, and James Logan Howlett had rejected it all, turned his back on his commanding officer, and left him chained to die while the dam holding back Alkali Lake strained from the damage inflicted by the mutant terrorists.

Colonel William Stryker struggled against his bonds. The dam failed, unleashing Alkali Lake on the surrounding woodland.

"These abominations in the eyes of God, these mutants and their terrorist allies, assaulted the very men that defend this great country, and Ah was left to die in an attack which threatened the lives of thousands of innocent people."

Water rushed towards him with terrible force. He couldn't see it, of course. The broken wall to which he was chained blocked his sight of the coming flood from view. However, he imagined seeing the individual droplets of water foaming at the vanguard of the onrushing torrent. Trees shattered into splinters and were propelled like hundreds of spears through the air, while the largest and sturdiest were toppled whole and carried away. And then the first waves of the flood surged past, carrying trees, rocks, and fragments of the collapsing dam. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

The jarring impact as the main body of the wall of water struck was not what he expected. At first, the stonework to which he was chained managed to withstand the crushing force of the water slamming against it, before some piece of debris, whether an uprooted tree or a part of the dam he couldn't tell, struck a glancing blow to the corner somewhere above his left ear. Stone cracked and exploded, and the wall began to come apart. And as it did so, the chains restraining him suddenly fell free, and Stryker was swept up in the water's arms, by some quirk of fate or providence the stone wall that was meant to be his headstone sheltering him from the worst of the flood.

"But my work on this earth was not done, and God himself lifted me up from the depths when the darkness bore me down. And filled my lungs with air when Ah thought Ah had drawn my last breath. And he opened my eyes, when once Ah was blind."

Darkness enveloped him as the water surged around him, a cold so penetrating it sucked the air from his lungs. He was tossed about by the current, and he felt something smash into his right leg. Bone shattered and fragmented, and through the agony he felt life in him again. He scrabbled and grabbed at the debris swirling around him, and he managed to catch hold of one of the mighty trees torn down by the rushing waters. His head broke the surface, and he gasped a deep lungful of cold, fresh air.

Stryker clung desperately to his makeshift life raft and allowed the flood to carry him along. And when the waters which destroyed his life's work subsided, he found himself lying alone on a snowy embankment, battered and bloodied, but by grace of God still alive.

###

New York City, 2013...

Stryker stood at his pulpit, his weight supported almost entirely on his left leg, and his service uniform exchanged for the robes of his ministry. He looked out across the gathered congregation: men, women, and children of all races, all united in their beliefs. His was a simple church, a converted theater rather than some grand edifice of stone and stained glass, but it served his purposes.

His congregation sat in silent, rapt attention while they listened to the sermon. Many had heard it before, but he took note of some new faces in the audience.

"And though my body is now lame," he said, his heavy southern drawl echoing through the theater, "still Ah stand before you to reveal God's truth! Once, Ah believed that even mutants had a purpose in God's plan. Once, Ah believed that even mutants could serve their country. Once, Ah believed that even mutants could live in peace amongst their fellow men. But Ah was deceived, and God has unveiled to me the lies of the mutant apologists. Heed not the words of Xavier, for his words are spoken into his ear by the Devil himself, and so long as mutants walk among us, all are in danger."

He slammed a fist down on the polished wood of his pulpit. "We must purge this element from our great society, as if it were a cancer sickening our nation." And again, the sound of his hand striking wood reverberated along with his words. "We must protect our families from the danger which lurks unseen." One last time his fist came down. "We must save our species from this abomination brought among man by Satan, and embrace God's will!"

The congregation broke out into wild applause when he finished, and he smiled at the reaction.

The faithful are as easily stirred as soldiers. When the time comes, they will do nicely.

Stryker raised his hands in a celebratory gesture at the chorus of "Amens" and "Hallelujahs." Then he picked up the simple cane leaning against the pulpit and made his way across the stage. His right leg throbbed in protest whenever his weight settled on it, for the bones never completely healed since the incident at Alkali Lake ended his military career.

A few members of his flock surged up the stairs leading to the stage to shake his hand or ask for a blessing, and he indulged them. God had seen fit to spare him from the disaster ten years ago, and he would oblige the faithful whenever possible. Nonetheless, he made his way resolutely to a side door, and before long was in the company of his bodyguard: hand-picked men in military-style uniforms, some of whom had served under him before his retirement from the Army.

They led him outside, and he blinked in the light of dawn upon entering the broad alley between the side of his church and the building next door. Already the city was alive with the sounds of traffic and people beginning their mornings. It had been another long night-time rally, and at his advancing age such sessions were beginning to take their toll. He mused at the irony that even had he not been medically discharged he might still have been obliged to retire from his military service by now as age caught up with him.

The guards escorted him along the alley to where his driver waited on the street with his car. One of the guards hurried to open the rear passenger's-side door upon his approach and eased him onto the bench, while another dropped into the front passenger's seat. Stryker was belted securely into place, and the driver was just preparing to get under way when he heard the commotion of several figures approaching being intercepted by the rest of his security. One was a well-dressed woman in a jacket and skirt, and he rolled his eyes in recognition of Melita Garner. Her dark brown hair was neatly styled, and the warm olive tone of her skin betrayed her mixed heritage and lent an exotic beauty to her forty year-old features. She carried a microphone and was accompanied by a cameraman and several technicians.

"Reverend Stryker!" she called once she caught sight of him through the bodyguards clustered around his car. "Reverend Stryker!"

Stryker made an exasperated sign to his guards and allowed Garner through. She hurried over to his car, and her cameraman and technicians quickly began filming before Stryker could even consider issuing the order to have them removed.

"Yes, my child," he said, inserting a hint of his annoyance with the woman's persistence into his voice. "What can Ah do for you? Did you enjoy the rally last night?"

She ignored his question, and immediately slipped into the role of the investigator that had come to irritate him since the incident at Alkali Lake. "Good morning, Reverend," she said, her voice colored by a slight accent, a peculiar overlapping of typical Mexican and African-American phonology. "Melita Garner, Fox News. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about some of your recent statements on human/mutant relations?"

Stryker scowled at her once she confirmed his suspicions over the purpose of her appearance at his church. "Ah believe my office has made mah position clear. If you haven't received mah official announcement Ah'll have a copy sent—"

"We are all aware of your prepared statements, Reverend, however viewers would prefer to hear an unscripted response to your charges that Charles Xavier has been assembling a mutant army in his School for the Gifted. Frankly, many find these claims ridiculous."

And there it was. In that moment he decided the woman's persistence was a nuisance he was finished enduring.

"Ah stand by mah statements, Ms. Garner—"

Her eyes widened in a carefully measured show of incredulity. "So, you honestly expect people to believe that a philanthropist like Charles Xavier, who donated land that has been in his family for generations to establish his school, is raising an army of children as part of some vast mutant conspiracy?"

"Ms. Garner," he said, his expression serious. "The threat to our way of life presented by Xavier and his so-called school is very real. He harbors aberrations against God, some of whom possess destructive capabilities far beyond the entire nuclear arsenal of the United States."

"According to what source are these children — and I do remind you, Reverend, that these are children — pose a threat, if I may ask? Your contacts within the US military, which are so classified you've refused multiple Freedom of Information requests to identify them and whom the government itself claims do not exist? A disgruntled janitor at the school? Or does it come from what you've professed as visions from God?"

Stryker scowled at her. The aftermath of the Alkali Lake incident still chafed at him even a decade later. Of course the government was quite aware that Xavier's private school housed the abominations, and he had seen to it personally that they were well-briefed of the potential threat. However, had word leaked that his secret project involved children — even mutant children — the fallout would have caused mass outrage among the public. So he was quietly swept aside, granted an honorable "medical discharge," and the truth of the incident covered up while the government courted Xavier to avoid a scandal. And now the school could even operate openly.

Of course, he could tell her nothing of this.

"Ms. Garner, Ah warn you that Ah will not have God or mah faith mocked for the entertainment of your audiences," he said instead. "Now if you will excuse me ..."

Stryker made a motion, and one of his guards interposed himself between him and Garner so the car door could be closed, finally allowing him to depart.

As the car sped away from the frustrated reporter, Stryker signed for the attention of the man in the front passenger's seat, a nondescript, brown-haired man of average height.

"Taylor, Ms. Garner's repeated harassment in support of the abominations is becoming something of an annoyance. Please see to it that she stops troubling me. With discretion, of course."

Taylor nodded obediently. "Yes, Reverend."

###

Melita watched Stryker's car speed away, frustrated by his evasiveness to her questions. Nonetheless, she quickly masked her irritation at yet another failure to obtain an unrehearsed interview and turned to the camera.

"As you can see," she said, "Attempts by the press to have the Reverend Stryker identify the sources in support of his accusations continue to meet with resistance. Meanwhile, he presses his verbal attacks against the children and faculty of the Xavier School for the Gifted, despite our own investigations and interviews with both faculty and students which have thus far turned up nothing to support Reverend Stryker's claims of this purported 'mutant army.' This has been Melita Garner, Fox News."

###

Act II

###

Julian Keller relaxed with an arm around Sofia Mantega on the couch, watching the television hanging over the fireplace occupying the eastern wall of the school's lounge. An armchair on each side formed a small conversation circle, and three round tables filled the space behind them: One in the light of the north-facing windows looking out onto the grounds on their left, and two others behind them. An arcade machine occupied the southeast corner of the room, with the entertainment center and sound system for the TV on the opposite side of the fireplace. Sliding double doors to the south lead out into the east corridor.

They were alone for the moment. Most of the student body was still waking up, getting ready for their first class, or having breakfast at this time of the morning.

Sofia, her brown hair pulled back neatly and fashionably dressed despite the early hour, largely ignored him, with her attention focused on the television. Julian scowled irritably at the image of Melita Garner as she approached the church of William Stryker.

"...outside the church headed by the Reverend William Stryker, where our cameras have once again been denied entrance," the reporter was saying. "Since his medical discharge from the United States Army following the Alkali Lake flood ten years ago, Reverend Stryker has become a curious mixture of recluse and local celebrity due to his outspoken verbal attacks against the mutant population, while refusing to respond to the press in open discourse. He has nonetheless amassed a substantial following that meets here weekly, and attends the rallies staged in protest of attempts to confirm equal protection under the US Constitution for the nation's mutant citizens with the Mutant Rights Act.

"Thus far, attempts to secure an interview with Reverend Stryker through his office have been stymied with referrals to his numerous prepared statements and manifestos. However, if we are lucky, we will be able to catch him as he leaves from his latest rally."

They watched Stryker emerge from the alley running along the side of his church surrounded by guards and headed for his car. Garner immediately broke into a pursuit, with the image shot by her cameraman swaying nauseatingly while he struggled to keep up with her.

"Isn't there anything better to watch?" he asked. "Cartoons? Talk shows? Hell, I'll even take the Kardashians than listening to any more of him."

"Shush," she said, her English colored by her thick Venezuelan accent. She elbowed him gently in the gut in a vain attempt to silence him. "I have a paper due next week on Stryker and his manifests. Garner's been trying to get a live interview with him for months, and I'd like to be able to use it."

"You know he's just going to have those glorified rent-a-cops break her cameras again."

His apathy and boredom getting the better of him, Julian flexed a hand, and a green aura formed around the remote control. He pointed at the television, and Sofia promptly grabbed it when she realized what he intended.

"Don't even think about it," she said.

He gave her a hurt look. "What?"

"No fair using telekinesis to change the channel on me! I took the remote away so I could actually watch this."

"Oh come on. Look, he's already brushed her off."

Sure enough, they watched Stryker forcibly end Garner's attempt to interview him when his guards slammed his car door shut. The reporter could only watch helplessly when he drove off, before turning back to the camera to deliver her closing comments.

Sofia threw up her hands in disgust.

"So you were right," she said. "It doesn't make you less of an ass."

He smirked and kissed her on the top of her head. "I love you, too, baby."

She rolled her brown eyes in exasperation, but a small smile managed to sneak onto her lips. "Oh, just let me get to work in peace. Don't you have a class this morning, anyway?"

"Yeah, yeah. Computer Science, real tough."

"Yes, I know it is, I saw your last report card."

Julian made a face at her, then kissed her on the cheek.

"Whatever," he said. "See you after?"

"See you after."

###

Julian slouched in his chair and leaned his head back, not even bothering to hide his boredom while Kitty Pryde gave her lecture. She rushed through the lesson with the ease of a savant, and the rest of the class struggled to keep up. Julian himself had long ago abandoned trying to follow her, so most of his time was spent sneaking peaks at her butt whenever she turned away from her students to face the board, the rest counting the ceiling tiles. He suspected that aside from a couple of nerds, Ms. Pryde, the youngest teacher on staff at the school and in a close fight with Marie D'Ancanto for the hottest, was the only reason any of the boys actually enrolled in her class.

Santo Vaccaro, his massive, rocky body barely contained by his chair and desk, sat beside him in the middle of the classroom. He leaned his head on one blocky fist, similarly trying not to fall asleep.

The tedium was interrupted by a knock on the door that managed to snap Santo back to full alertness, though Julian continued his survey of the ceiling.

"Come in," Ms. Pryde said, and paused in the middle of her lesson.

The door swung open, and one of the most school's most recognizable figures entered.

"Logan!" Ms. Pryde said in surprise, and rushed across the room to gather the Wolverine in a friendly hug. The open warmth when he returned her embrace would have seemed entirely out of place a dozen years earlier, but though Julian had heard the stories, neither he nor his classmates had even been in kindergarten in those days.

"Whoah, hey, check out the new girl," Santo said, nearly knocking Julian out of his chair with one stony fist reaching across the space between them to get his attention.

"Huh, what?" Julian managed when the effort to stay righted snapped his attention away from contemplating the ceiling, and realized for the first time that the Wolverine had not entered alone.

The first thing he noticed was she was rather small: The girl, about their age and very pretty, would be lucky to clear five feet tall, and possessed the lithe figure of a gymnast. She wore her black hair long past her shoulders and, despite not being styled, it managed to artfully frame her pale face. The biker jacket she wore, which Julian recognized once belonged to the Wolverine, was comically oversized on her small frame, and beneath that she wore a low-cut blood red corset. Her outfit was completed by a black leather miniskirt, fishnets cladding her shapely legs, flat-soled calf-high boots, and a gold locket on a choker around her neck that nestled at the top of her cleavage.

"Wow, what kind of freak do you think she is," Julian muttered.

The girl held a binder and a few books protectively in front of herself, and realizing she was now the center of attention while Ms. Pryde and Logan spoke quietly, shrunk as far as she could into her jacket. Her expression was blank, but she swept her green eyes across the classroom.

Santo shrugged. "I don't know, but she's kinda hot. Y'know, if you like the whole creepy Goth thing."

"Yeah, creepy is right. I wonder where the Wolverine turned her up?"

After a few moments Logan finished his conversation with Ms. Pryde. Ignoring the rest of the class, he touched his companion on the shoulder and muttered a quiet word in her ear before departing again. By now the rest of the students were having their own conversations about the newcomer as well, which Ms. Pryde interrupted and regained their attention by clearing her throat.

"Class, we have a new student joining us today," she said. "This is Laura. Laura, would you like to tell us a little about yourself before we continue the lesson?"

"No," Laura said. Her voice was barely loud enough to register where Julian sat.

"Are you sure?"

Laura nodded slightly and withdrew into her spacious jacket.

Julian smirked at her. "Come on, Laura, share with the class," he said, prompting a snicker from the other students.

"Julian," Ms. Pryde said, giving him a warning glare.

"What? It's not time for show and tell?" The rest of the class laughed again.

"If she doesn't want to waste our class time entertaining you, Mr. Keller, that's her choice."

"I just want to know what she can do."

Laura leveled her eyes on Julian, and there was something hard behind them that made the finer hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"No, you do not," she said. The class gave a howl of amusement at the veiled threat in her voice, and Ms. Pryde interceded before the situation could escalate further.

"All right, enough, everyone," Ms. Pryde said. "Laura, please find a seat. Julian, eyes front and mouth shut, or we'll be having a talk after class."

Once again, the students snickered. Julian gave Laura a smug grin as she made her way to an empty seat in the back corner of the classroom. With the disruption settled, Ms. Pryde jumped right back into the middle of her lecture, and Julian was soon back to counting the ceiling tiles.

###

Logan stepped out of the classroom and into the corridor outside, threading past several of the resident students loitering in the hall. He exchanged greetings with those he was acquainted with, and caused quite a stir among those who had never met him but clearly recognized the Wolverine. Memories from the previous decade clawed their way up from the confused jumble of his past on his walk through the east corridor.

Some of the gaps in his memory had been filled in with the help of Professor Xavier, and there were a few things that were still murky but somewhat clearer now than when he first came to the school, but much remained lost. Logan conceded that his experiences here had made him okay with that.

He approached the library on his left, hands tucked in his jeans pockets (an unfamiliar resting place for them, accustomed as they were to the pockets of his jacket). But Laura had appropriated it for her own after he found her. Noticing she drew some measure of comfort from it he couldn't bring himself to take it back, so this would have to do until he replaced it.

He paused outside the library door for a moment. Students studied or conversed quietly at the library tables, or browsed the bookshelves running in neat rows along the walls. Windows in the south wall let in light from outside, and with the air cooling with the progression of fall they stood open to let a fresh breeze through. The muted background sounds of the library made even the slightest change in volume almost deafening to his enhanced hearing, and the mustiness of row upon row of old books, unnoticeable by most of the children, was especially prominent to his nose. A cloud of perfume remained where a girl — Noriko Ashida, if he recalled that particular scent — entered the library not long ago. It was just enough to get the attention of most members of the student body, but for Logan's senses it was almost overwhelming.

Yes, it was Nori. He could hear her giggling from the direction of the fireplace in the east wall, and the trail of perfume led in that direction.

He turned and continued on his way, and drew nearer the door to Charles Xavier's office next door to the library. He was about to knock when a familiar voice interrupted him. Not that Logan was surprised. He had already heard — and smelled — his approach.

"So how's my old bike treating you?"

Logan smirked and turned around to see Scott Summers leaning against the wall, gazing at him through his ruby-quartz glasses and with that expression Logan couldn't decide if it was meant to be a smug grin or a commanding glower on his face.

"Running better than ever, Slim," Logan said. "You should take her out for a spin sometime."

"Dick."

"Boy Scout."

The two shared an amused grin over the greeting before Scott continued. "So what brings you back by the school?"

"Brought someone in this morning that could use some help," Logan said. "Xavier's waiting to talk about her now."

"I heard. And if she has your endorsement, it has me worried for all of us."

"Hey, everything worked out fine with Marie, didn't it?"

The other snorted a laugh. "Sure, if blowing up the Statue of Liberty's torch counts as 'fine.' It's not that I'll throw the girl back out on the streets, but from what Xavier and I discussed I still don't like it."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't. Look, you got a problem take it up with the Professor. Just lay off the kid, will ya? She's had it hard enough to have to deal with the stick you've got jammed up your ..."

Logan trailed off when one of the younger students in the hall looked their way, having heard his voice rise in irritation.

"Just lay off her," he finished instead.

Scott managed a smile and shook his head. "So I guess your visit is going to be just like old times, then?"

"'Course, and I'll be lovin' every minute of it. Anyway, the Professor's expectin' me. Don't you have some hall-monitorin' to do?"

Scott shook his head again and chuckled as he walked away, leaving Logan alone and smirking at Xavier's office door. Almost before he knocked, he heard the Professor's voice from within.

"Come in, Logan!"

"You'd think I'd be used to that by now," he muttered, then opened the door to Xavier's office and stepped inside.

Upon entering the office, Logan found that it had changed little over the years. Some of the furniture had been replaced, Xavier's office computer had been upgraded, and there were some new books on the shelves and other odds and ends, but otherwise it was the same functionally inviting space he remembered from when he first found his way there. Its walls were lined with bookshelves, and it was dominated by a large wooden desk. There was also a small conversation circle tucked away in the near corner next to the fireplace on the angled east wall.

Professor Charles Xavier, who seemed to have hardly aged at all since they first met more than a decade ago, sat in his wheelchair behind his desk finishing some paperwork, but as soon as Logan entered was already moving to meet him.

"Logan, it's good to see you again," he said, smiling warmly. "Welcome, and please, have a seat!" Xavier motioned to the conversation circle, and Logan took a seat in one of the chairs. "I assume your search was successful?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah. The kid was skulkin' around and ran off when she realized I caught her scent. Didn't take much to find her after that, though. She followed me out and came right to me. She'd been lookin' for me."

"I see. Did you have any difficulties bringing her in?"

Logan considered for a moment exactly how much to tell him about the encounter. Xavier was certainly trustworthy, and he had already shared a great deal of what he had learned about Laura's background with him. "Well, it wasn't easy," he said, "But I convinced her." From the look on Xavier's face Logan suspected the man had sensed there was more to it than Logan outright said, but he could see the Professor's respect for his and Laura's privacy, and he did not press for more. "I've got her sittin' in with Kitty's class for now to keep her occupied. Figure most of that group is her age, which will do her some good. Sooraya'll meet up with her when they let out and show her around. I'll talk to her tonight and help her figure out a class schedule then."

Xavier nodded. "Yes, Sooraya is a good choice, I think. I do wish to discuss this before any final decisions are made, however. I've read the copy of her mother's letter you gave me, and I must admit I am not without my concerns."

Logan sighed. "Seem to be getting' that from all angles so far. I heard Cyclops already had a word with ya."

Xavier nodded and steepled his hands together. "I did have a discussion with Scott about Laura while you were out looking for her, yes," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Please do not misunderstand me, Logan. I do agree that we needed to bring her here, for her own safety as much as those around her, and I would never turn anyone away from this school who has come to us for help. I am merely concerned whether this is the right choice for her."

Logan sat back in his chair and rubbed his forehead while fragmented memories danced at the edge of clarity. He still couldn't remember the procedure that bonded the adamantium with his skeleton, but knew calling it unpleasant would be a massive understatement. "The kid's had it rough, Professor. Ain't nobody that knows better what she's been through than me. Ain't nobody that should ever have to know what she's been through either, especially a kid. The things that were done to her ..."

Xavier sighed in sympathy. "I know, Logan," he said. "And I cannot tell you how much I empathize with the poor girl."

"The point is that I was in her place once, too. I may not have been a student here, and I sure as hell ain't the model X-Man. The Boy Scout out there sure ain't letting me forget it. But being here helped me put the pieces back together. I still don't remember everything I lost, but at least you helped me make peace with that and what memories I do have." A chill worked its way down his spine. "Laura remembers everything, and I can't imagine how much worse that's made things for her. If there was anywhere that could help her find peace of her own, it's gonna be here with you."

"You know that I will do everything within my power, and everything within the capabilities of this school, to help her. But you must also understand that the emotional and psychological trauma Laura has endured is severe."

"I know, Professor. I saw nice, up close, and personal just how bad it was, and it wasn't pretty."

He left unsaid just how fine of a line he had walked when Laura had caught up with him.

"She's been doing a fair job of hidin' it," he continued, "But I know all too well what she's feelin' don't just go away. In a twisted way I'm responsible for everything that's happened to her, so I gotta at least try to make it right with her."

Xavier considered that for a moment, before responding.

"It may reach the point where she needs aid beyond what we can provide," the Professor said. "I would at the very least recommend professional counseling, which we aren't really equipped for."

Logan scowled at the suggestion. "Ain't sure she'd go for more pokin' and proddin'. I was hoping all she might need is a chance to have a normal life for a change."

Xavier gave him an ironic smile.

"A normal life. I wonder what the chances are for anyone at this school actually managing to have a normal life."

Even Logan found the dark humor in that.

"Yeah, seems the track record for that here kind of sucks, don't it?" he said. "Anyway, I'll be stayin' on a couple days to make sure she gets settled in ok. She's trustin' me, at least, which I suppose counts for something. Though I imagine there's plenty of better choices for her to latch onto."

"I'm not so sure there's anyone here better qualified to help her with what she is going through," Xavier said.

###

Ms. Pryde's lecture finally ended not a moment too soon, and Julian hurried out of the classroom in relief with Santo close behind him. He took up a spot leaning against the wall outside, watching the rest of their classmates file out while he waited for Sofia. A moment later she stepped out of the library and headed their direction, and he greeted her with a light kiss when she arrived.

"How was class?" she asked.

Julian shrugged. "Same as usual."

Santo grunted in amusement. "Which means he slept through most of it."

Sofia folded her arms across her chest and smirked. "Working hard on failing, then?"

"I'm still not sure why I even signed up for this class," Julian said.

"Ms. Pryde," Santo said, making a show of coughing into his hand.

Julian gave him an irritated sock to the shoulder, and instantly regretted it. He yelped and shook it out at the pain of punching solid rock lancing up his arm. Sofia gave him a satisfied smirk while he rubbed his wounded hand.

"That serves you right," she said. Julian made a face back at her.

The rest of the students filed out of the classroom, and Laura emerged last. She shrunk into Logan's jacket when she brushed past them, holding her books against herself protectively on her way up the hall, looking about as if she were seeking someone.

"Who is that?" Sofia asked. "I've never seen her around here before."

"Some new girl the Wolverine dropped off in class today," Julian said, and shivered. "She gives me the chills, and I don't just mean because she was a total ice queen in class. There's something really spooky about her."

Julian flashed Sofia a smirk. "Hey, check this out."

A green aura of gathering power formed around Julian's hand, and he made a finger gun.

Sofia rolled her eyes and sighed. "Julian, please don't," she said with strained patience.

Julian ignored her and pointed his finger at Laura. "Pew!"

He released the burst of gathered telekinetic energy, which struck Laura's books and sent them flying out of her hands. She stumbled in surprise at the impact, and her things scattered across the floor. Several of the other students around her laughed and clapped in amusement, and Santo cheerfully slapped Julian on the shoulder. The blow staggered him, and it was a good several minutes before it stopped throbbing.

"Good shooting, Tex!" Santo said.

Sofia scowled at him. "Why do you always have to be an ass?"

Julian raised his hands in protest at the accusatory look on her face. "What?"

"Because," a new voice interjected, lightly colored by her Farsi accent, "if it looks like one and brays like one, it must be one. And one must act within its nature."

Julian rolled his eyes at that when Sooraya Qadir, the hem of her black abaya brushing the floor around her, glided up the hall and glared at Julian. Though the rest of her face was hidden behind the niqab which masked her expression, the irritation in her dark eyes was still enough to make Julian recoil.

Sooraya shook her head. "I have never understood the amusement bullies find in tormenting others," she added, "Especially when they are here to escape torment for being different themselves."

Julian gave her an exasperated look. "Sorry, 'mother,'" he said, earning a smack up the back of the head from Sofia. Santo stifled a laugh, which Julian returned with a glare.

"Don't be such a jerk," Sofia said, fixing him with her most annoyed expression.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked. Sooraya folded her arms under her breast, and though her abaya billowed loosely around her like a cloud and obscured her shape, one could still see she was of average height and build. Julian idly thought about how despite having known her for some time, he had still never seen her face. Sofia and some of the other girls had mentioned she was pretty, but it was still rather alien to think of her as a friend and not be able to see her. "I thought you didn't have classes today and were headed into Salem with Cessily."

"Mr. Logan is in a meeting with Professor Xavier and asked for me to take Laura in hand," she said. "It seems I did not arrive soon enough."

He rolled his eyes at her again. "So who is she, anyway?" He glanced over his shoulder at the girl, on her knees now and trying to gather up her things. His hand began to glow again, and he sent one of Laura's books skidding across the floor out of reach just when she tried to pick it up. Sofia grabbed him by the wrist and glared at him.

"Julian, that's enough!" she snapped.

"I don't know," Sooraya said in answer, "Other than that she is an acquaintance of Logan's. For which I must admire your courage in harassing her. Now if you will excuse me, someone must at least try to be her friend."

###

Sooraya pushed past the group and made her way down the hall, taking a small amount of satisfaction in the dressing down Sofia was delivering to Julian. She did not speak Spanish herself, but from the context of some of Sofia's invective when her English failed her it sounded like her choice of words would be quite inappropriate in polite conversation. She was unsure if she should pity Santo for having to stand by and watch the spat, or if he found some sort of entertainment in it and was enjoying the spectacle that typically resulted from Julian and Sofia's quarrels.

Laura paused while gathering up her scattered belongings and looked over her shoulder when she approached, having already detected her presence despite her distraction. Sooraya lowered herself to the ground and helped her corral the last few wayward papers and books. The first she picked up was a children's book, Pinocchio, which Laura snatched almost protectively from her hands.

"Good day," she said, taking her unusually defensive reaction to handling the book in stride. "It is Laura, right?"

"Yes," she said, her voice strangely quiet. She cradled the book against herself for a moment, before almost reverently stacking it with the others she had set beside her.

"I'm sorry for this, there are some among the student body who think they are still children. My name is Sooraya Qadir, and Logan asked me to show you around the school while he is meeting with Professor Xavier. He said you would be expecting me."

Laura hesitated a moment and nodded, and Sooraya could not help but feel as if in that brief pause the girl had been looking clear through her. Her next words came as a considerable surprise.

"You are Sunni Muslim," she said, in flawless Farsi.

For a moment Sooraya could only stare dumbfounded at Laura's grasp of her own native tongue, spoken without even a trace of an accent, and it was even of the same dialect Sooraya herself spoke.

"Yes, I am. And you speak Farsi quite well."

"I have visited Afghanistan ..."

Laura's expression turned distant, and she trailed off. Sooraya helped her retrieve the last few papers, which she tucked neatly into her binder.

"Really?" Sooraya said, "I was born there. And where are you from?"

"Nowhere," Laura said, abruptly shifting back into English with striking ease. She said nothing more for some moments, and realizing she would not clarify any further, Sooraya offered her a hand back to her feet. Laura flinched back from the offered hand, and rose on her own.

"It is almost time for lunch, are you hungry?" she asked.

Laura nodded.

"Come then, I must stop by the lounge, first, someone was expecting me, and I did not have a chance before to let her know I must cancel our plans."

Sooraya lead Laura past the library and Xavier's office, and then into the lounge, through a sliding double-door on their right. Any questions she had were answered as briefly as they could be, with shrugs, nods or a subtle shake of the head whenever possible, and in only one or two words when she needed to speak. Her green eyes were constantly roving her surroundings, and Sooraya could not help but feel that every room she passed, Laura was aware of everything happening around her.

There were a few students not in class relaxing in the lounge when they entered. Carl Aalston, Brian Cruz, the Vale sisters, and Barnell Bohusk gathered around the television. Jeffrey Garrett, Sidney Green, Alani Ryan, Andrea Marguilies, and Aurelie Sabayan scattered among the tables. Sooraya soon caught sight of who she was looking for; Cessily Kincaid, craning her neck towards the entrance, detached herself from Callie Betto and Lewis Jordan upon spotting her, and hurried across the lounge to meet them. Her liquid metal skin reflected the lights, and she wore her red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her dress was unremarkable, just a simple pair of jeans and a pink tank top. Cessily stuffed her hands into her pockets and gave Sooraya and Laura a look of mixed amusement and impatience.

"Hey, I've been waiting for you," Cessily said. "I thought we were heading into Salem today."

Sooraya inclined her head apologetically. "I'm sorry I am late, but Mr. Logan asked me to help out at the last minute with our new guest today. Cessily, this is Laura. Laura, I would like you to meet my friend, Cessily Kincaid."

"Hi, pleased to meet you!" she said cheerily. Cessily extended a hand in greeting, and Laura regarded it uncertainly for a moment before taking it. "Welcome to the Xavier School. So, where are you from?"

Laura withdrew back into her jacket again and shied away from the question. Cessily gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Don't like talking about it, huh? It's ok, there's more than a few who feel the same way. Quite a few of us don't exactly fit in outside, you know ..." She tapped her metallic skin to emphasize the point. "But that's why we're here, right? I'm sure you'll feel at home soon enough."

"Laura and I were about to get something to eat, would you care to join us?" Sooraya asked.

"Sure, seeing as I was waiting for you anyway. It will give us a chance to tell Laura all our friends' embarrassing stories before they have a chance to defend themselves."

Cessily smiled mischievously and Sooraya chuckled at that, and the three started out of the lounge, turning right towards the main hall.

"Well, best we do not start with Julian or we will be here all day," Sooraya said. "Speaking of which, you might have a word with him."

"Let me guess, they've already met?" Cessily glanced at Laura, who looked back at her warily. "I love him to death, but there's times I'd love to deck him. I don't know how he can be such a good friend one moment, and then turn into an absolute prick the next. Nori can be just as bad when you don't let her have her way. Anyway, how long have you known Logan?"

"Three days," Laura said quietly. Sooraya glanced at her, and noted her posture remained guarded and wary.

"Oh? How did you meet?"

"I found him."

The three walked in silence for several moments, before Cessily realized Laura did not intend to elaborate further. They first passed the reception hall — its sliding doors were closed — and the large central fireplace opposite the main doors and the double flight of stairs leading up to the second floor. They continued into the west corridor and passed the formal dining room on their right, and a padded seat beneath the windows looking out from the southern facing on their left. The dining hall was an opulently furnished room with a long table lined with chairs running down the middle, hardwood floors, and chandeliers hung from the ceiling overhead. The hall was empty, however, so they continued past it and the west classroom, before turning left into the kitchen.

This was quite substantially sized and fully equipped, with a small and much more casual dining area tucked away in the northeast corner next to the walk-in pantry. There was ample counter space, a microwave, a professional-sized oven, and an industrial refrigerator and dishwasher. Cabinets lined most of the walls, with a door to the larder occupying the southeast corner. The kitchen, too, was empty of other students when they entered.

"Breakfast and lunch are casual here," Sooraya said, "except for special occasions like holidays. Dinner is served after classes in the dining hall, which is also where we hold the other meals on special days. There's also the reception hall, which we passed after we left the lounge, where the school holds formal gatherings. We also often make trips into Salem Center, especially on days we don't have afternoon classes. The pantries are kept stocked by the staff and you may help yourself, and you are also welcome to keep food of your own as well."

"Make sure you label it if you don't want anyone else to help themselves, though," Cessily added. "We don't usually have problems with that since it's such a small community here, but it happens. Do you have any special diet needs?"

Laura shook her head.

"Ok, just wanted to be sure," Cessily continued. "I know there's a few kids whose mutation requires special diets, Sooraya follows halal, and there's one or two Jewish students as well, oh, and Miss Pryde stays kosher, too. I don't need to eat at all, but in a way it's kind of comforting to do it anyway and helps me feel, y'know, normal. Is there anything particular you like?"

Laura shrugged noncommittally. "No, unless there is something spicy."

Cessily thought for a moment and turned to Sooraya. "Are there any leftovers from that Indian place we tried the other day? I wasn't really crazy about it, but some of it had a real kick."

"I think so," Sooraya replied, stepping over to check the refrigerator. "It looks like there's some of the Chingudi Jhola left."

Cessily nodded. "Yeah, that was Josh's but he said I could have it since it didn't agree with him. If you like spicy, Laura, you'll love this. Hey, while you're in there can you grab me the other half of that sandwich I had yesterday?"

Sooraya handed a takeout bowl and half a submarine sandwich wrapped in brown paper to Cessily, then disappeared back into the refrigerator in search of her own lunch.

"Thanks," Cessily said. "We can eat out in the lounge or in here if you like. We usually don't use the dining hall except for dinner."

Laura withdrew into her jacket again and hugged herself. "I prefer it in here."

"Ok. Yeah, this place can be a lot to take in all at once. Me? I'm a bit of a social butterfly so I just dove right in, but I'm sure you'll warm up to it pretty soon."

Cessily smiled warmly and handed the takeout bowl to Laura, and the three turned their attention to preparing their meals.

###

Act III

###

Melita Garner pushed open the door of the tavern and stepped inside. The interior was not unlike the hundreds of others throughout the city of New York, and was dominated by a bar surrounded by stools for the patrons. A juke box stood in one corner, and the rest of the floor was occupied by tables. A set of double doors opposite the front entrance led to the kitchens and storerooms in back. The lights were kept low, though the midday sun streamed through the windows looking out onto the street, and the place was filled with the sour odor of old beer.

The chairs had been stacked upside-down on their tables so the floors could be cleaned, and the handful of patrons in the establishment at this time of day were clustered around the bar itself. The bartender was an older man who in his youth had been well-built and muscular, but as age began to claim him that had developed into a bit of a gut. Nonetheless, he was still not the sort to be trifled with. He wore his dark hair, now fading into silver, cropped short.

Melita crossed the floor and took a stool a few seats down from a brown-haired man wearing a Yankees cap pulled low over his face.

"What can I get you, honey?" the bartender asked, joining her by her stool.

"The usual, Jack," she said.

Jack nodded and went to work, grabbing a snifter from a stack of freshly cleaned glasses and filling it with scotch neat. He slid it over to her and Melita swirled it around a bit before taking a sip.

"Staying for lunch today?"

"No, she said, "Just stopped in for a quick drink before heading back to the station. How're the kids?"

"Doing just fine." Jack leaned on the bar and eyed her. "I caught your report this morning. I've got to say you've got balls. Stryker's a tough old son of a bitch. I never served with him myself, but I heard the stories over in 'Nam. Ran some kind of black ops unit near the end of it, though there wasn't much more talk than that which filtered down to us."

"I've heard that," she said. "Did you know when I went to cover that Alkali Lake flood back in '03 I got turned away by troops posted on the road? Oh sure, they said it was for our own safety, but then my entire story was shut down. I've got a good source that says there was a lot more going on there than just a dam breach."

Jack shook his head. "You've been embedded with enough units in the Middle East to know the military loves to keep its secrets. They probably had some classified think tank in the area or something, and didn't want someone accidentally digging it up while investigating the flood."

"Yeah, but somehow I don't think it's a coincidence that Stryker was picked up in the debris. And now his church's statements about the Xavier school? Christ, Jack, those are just a bunch of kids. Hell, you were around to see people bombing schools just because the kids had the wrong color skin."

"I'm not saying you're all wrong, hon', but Jesus, do you honestly think that Stryker is going to start blowing up mutie schools?"

Melita sighed and pinched her nose wearily. "Yes. No. Maybe. But even if he doesn't, what's to stop someone reading his manifestos from doing it for him. I mean have you really stopped to look at those things?"

"C'mon, you know I don't go in for that tabloid-fodder crap."

"Believe me, it's some scary stuff. And what's worse is that a lot more people are willing to take it seriously." She took a long drink from her scotch and propped her head on one hand. "Sure, Westboro picks up its share of lunatics, but if people even think Stryker might be calling for a religious crusade against mutants he's not going to have trouble filling the ranks. I know things are better these days, but I don't think it's because the hate is gone, it's just a lot less socially acceptable to express it."

Jack leaned on the bar and gazed at her levelly. "I think you're getting too invested in this, honey. You need to step back and take a break. Remember that you're supposed to be fair and impartial, even if it means giving crackpots their say."

Melita spread her arms in exasperation. "That's part of the problem! The crackpots are the ones getting the most air time. Do you remember where they stuck my interview with Xavier? Three AM on a Sunday morning. The infomercials had better ratings."

She drained the last of her scotch and mopped her face.

"Maybe you're right, she continued. "Maybe I'm getting too invested. But we are supposed to be fair and impartial, so what the hell am I supposed to do when so much of the rest of the press is forgetting that." She sighed in exasperation. "Anyway, I need to get back to the office. Thanks for the ear, babe. How much do I owe you?"

Jack patted her on the shoulder. "On me, hon'."

"Thanks, Jack. Take care of yourself."

"You too. You know if you keep ruffling feathers the way you do someone's eventually going to take offense."

Melita smiled at him. "That's why I love my job. Catch you later."

Melita got up and headed for the door. A minute or so later, the man in the Yankees cap finished his own drink, dropped a few bills on the bar, and followed.

###

Cessily leaned back in her chair nursing a can of Coca-Cola, and brushed the crumbs from her sandwich off her shirt. Laura was taking her time with the Chingudi Jhola and visibly savoring every bite. Sooraya watched her with some amusement while she finished her own lunch, something she'd picked up from a halal deli in Salem Center.

"So, I tell Josh that if that's the way he feels," Cessily was saying, "he should just tell her."

Sooraya regarded her thoughtfully. "Does Laurie feel the same way?" she asked.

Cessily gave an exaggerated shrug, the soda in her can sloshing a bit at the movement. "Damned if I know. She's so sensitive to what everyone else around her is feeling it's hard to tell what's her and what she's picking up from everyone else. I don't know how she even handles it."

"She has been working on filtering it out," Sooraya noted. "I've noticed she seems to be doing better in small groups lately, though she has still been spending much of her free time alone."

Cessily gave a sigh. "Sometimes I wish I could have manifested empathy instead of...well...like this, but seeing what it does to her I don't know if I could handle it." She turned to Laura. "What about you, Laura? When did you manifest?"

Laura hesitated a moment at the question, her spoon halfway between her bowl and her mouth, and a pained look passed across her eyes.

"I was seven," she said, bringing the spoon up the rest of the way and continuing to eat without another word, while Cessily and Sooraya regarded her with surprise.

"Seven?" Sooraya said, shock evident in her voice. "I did not think it possible for most mutations to manifest so young."

"Your source of information is flawed," she replied.

"So what can you do?" Cessily asked. "If you don't mind my asking."

"I do not wish to talk about it." Her voice went very quiet.

"Oh," she said, taken aback by her curt response. Laura's expression was deeply troubled, however, and there was a haunted look in her eyes, as if she were recalling things best left buried.

"I am sorry," Laura said after a moment.

Cessily offered her a reassuring smile. "It's ok. I understand, I really do. To be honest, I really don't like talking about...well...me much, either. Especially because of how much it stands out. People look at me and know right away what I am, so they start staring and it makes me uncomfortable."

"I don't know," a familiar voice interjected. "What I see is beautiful." Cessily smiled as Mark Sheppard walked into the kitchen, a binder tucked under his arm and his headphones hung around his neck. She suspected he had his iPod in some pocket of his jacket, and his t-shirt advertised an obscure local band she didn't recognize, and whom she was certain Mark could recite their full song catalog. "Your skin is particularly lustrous this morning," he continued.

Mark headed for the refrigerator for a soda, then returned to the table and dropped into a chair next to Cessily, running his hand back through his shaggy and stylishly messy black hair with a wink.

"Well thank you, Mark," she said, still smiling.

"And you look lovely too, Sooraya," he added, popping open his can and taking a drink. "Done something different with your hair today?"

Laura's spoon paused again, and she regarded Mark with a look of confusion.

"Her hair is covered in accordance with hijab," she said, as if Mark were blind to the obvious.

They laughed in response to the seriousness of her tone, and Laura looked between the three in embarrassment before hastily finishing the spoonful.

"Oh, do not mind Mark, Laura," Sooraya said. "He is a shameless flirt. Mark, this is Laura."

He smiled at her. "Hi. You know, I thought I knew all the pretty girls at this school, where have you been hiding?"

Laura merely blushed and shrunk into her jacket.

"Laura just started today," Cessily said. "Sooraya was going to show her around a bit after lunch, and I'll probably tag along. You're welcome to come too, if you'd like."

Cessily gave Laura an amused look when she tried to resume eating.

Mark heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Much as I'd love to spend the rest of the day in the company of such lovely ladies, I've got classes the rest of the day after lunch," he said. "Maybe another time, though. I'd love to get to know you better."

He winked at Laura, and Cessily couldn't help but smile when she noticed how visibly flustered she was by the attention. It was the most consistent show of emotion she had made since they met.

"Maybe we can meet up later if you're free?" he added.

Laura shrugged uncomfortably and continued eating without another word.

Mark gave Cessily and Sooraya a pained look. "Ouch, tough room. Was it something I said?"

"I am...not good with people," Laura said.

"Well, we'll have to work on that," he said. "Anyway, I've gotta run, so I'll see you ladies later. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Laura."

Mark flashed her another wink, then departed the kitchen with his soda in hand. Laura watched him go with a bewildered expression, then turned her attention back to her lunch.

Cessily leaned in conspiratorially. "I think he likes you, Laura," she said with an amused smile.

"Mark likes everyone," Sooraya said, equally amused, "But he is sweet."

Laura did not respond, and merely finished the last of her lunch.

Sooraya took note of Laura's disinterest in continuing such a conversation, and pushed away from the table. "Well, if we are all finished, I think it's time to show Laura the rest of the school. Shall we?"

###

The sun was beginning to sink into the west, turning the sky the color of fire at the horizon before fading away to the darker indigo of approaching night. It made the gardens seem to glow, while long shadows began to stretch out like fingers across the school's grounds to cover it in darkness. Logan's sensitive ears could hear kids gathered in many small groups discussing the day's classes, or making plans to head into Salem Center for the night rather than have dinner at the school. Logan tuned this out as he always did, and watched Jean Grey separate Julian Keller and Quentin Quire from their telekinetic and telepathic shoving match. Keller's distinct green aura lit up the gardens in the fading daylight.

He wasn't quite sure what set the two off, but knowing what he did about the egos of both kids, it probably didn't take much.

After a few moments, and finally resorting to her own power, Jean finally managed to put an end to the fight and sent them on back to the school, each glowering at the other, Quire no doubt getting in a few mental last words judging by Keller's expression. The two passed him without a word while Jean trailed along behind them; tall, sophisticated, and almost seeming to glow in the late afternoon sunlight. Her long red hair was worn loose and almost blended in with the color of her blouse, and Logan had to carefully bury the thoughts and feelings bubbling up.

"Logan!" Jean said, and smiled warmly in greeting.

"Jeannie," he said gruffly, and thrust his hands in his pants pockets, never quite sure now how to approach her. She didn't need to exercise her power to know how he felt, but over the past decade he'd had no choice but to push those thoughts aside. When he first turned up, he'd had no shame about pursuing her despite her relationship with Scott, but now? Scott certainly wasn't someone he would have befriended in his old life, but he had come to respect the man's sheer ability to lead, and somehow in the process they had formed a strange friendship. So he had reluctantly chosen to back off for their sake, though it didn't make these conversations much easier.

"I knew the moment I saw Scott after the first classes this morning you were back," she said with amusement.

Logan quirked his own mouth into a grin. "Got him good an' riled up, did I?"

"He decided to take extended target practice this afternoon since he didn't have another class."

"Well, if we really want to boil him ..."

Of course, just because he had come to respect Scott and Jean's relationship didn't mean it wasn't fun to poke at it from time to time.

Jean's expression sobered somewhat, and she declined to continue the dance. "I saw that you found her, too."

Logan sighed. Is everyone going to be down on that poor girl today? "More like she found me. I know Slim ain't too happy about it, and the Professor's already shared his concerns. I suppose it's your turn, now."

Jean folded her arms across her chest and stared at the ground for a moment, familiar enough with Logan's idiosyncrasies to know he meant nothing by the comment, but whatever she had to say bothered her.

"Logan, I wasn't trying to pry into her privacy, but I did pierce her mental defenses — they're almost as strong as yours, by the way. What I saw there ..."

"Look, Jeannie, I know..."

Jean looked at him sharply. "No, Logan, I don't think you do. At least not really. Yes, you know what she's been through better than any of us, but you only know from what the Professor has helped you to remember. She has perfect recall of everything. And that's not an exaggeration; from what I felt I think she may have something similar to an eidetic memory. But she's on the edge, and if she falls off it could be disastrous for her and anyone around her. What she could be made to do ..."

"I know!" he said, just as sharply as Jean's visual rebuke, and she flinched back in response. "Are you sayin' you don't like her being here, either?"

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "I know you want to help her, as does the Professor. It's why we're here. But we have a responsibility to the other students as well. Maybe nothing will happen, but you're introducing her to a situation that for someone like her can be incredibly volatile."

"So the kid's dangerous," Logan said, feeling his frustration start to get the better of him. "So am I. So are you, and Cyke, and hell, all these kids." He made a show of indicating the grounds with a sweep of his arms.

Jean nodded. "I know. She's going to need you, though, and you're not always going to be around."

He sighed and nodded. His responsibilities with the X-Men elsewhere frequently took him away from the school, and Jean was right about that. Laura had opened up to him, even if it was only for a little bit, but he wouldn't always be here if she needed him. "That's why I brought her here. But I'm not gonna just run off and leave her, I'll be sure she can reach me if she needs me."

Jean arced one eyebrow high in amusement. "Really? Who would have ever thought you would have become responsible."

Logan smirked. "Yeah, well, try and keep that between you an' me, I got a reputation to hold up with the kids. I'm kinda getting' used to the reverent awe when I walk through the halls."

Jean leaned into him and lowered her voice. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Anyway, Scott is wondering why I haven't come back from my intramural class with the telepaths and telekinetics yet. We'll catch up with you later."

Logan nodded. "Right. Well, when you see him, tell him I said 'bite me.'"

Jean smiled and started away. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it. It's good to see you, Logan."

"Good to see you, Jeannie."

He watched Jean walk away, then sighed and turned his attention back to the gardens for a few minutes while the autumn breeze rustled through the trees.

That was when she arrived. He didn't hear her approach, of course. Laura moved like a cat: swift, graceful, silent. He knew what to expect when he set out some days ago to lure her into the open, but actually seeing her in motion was a thing of terrifying beauty. He only sensed her now from her scent; disturbingly familiar, and just different enough to highlight the similarities and mark just how wrong it was in the first place. Although she would have been coming from the school, she had circled around to approach him from upwind, deliberately announcing her imminent arrival. Otherwise even with his enhanced senses she could have taken him completely unawares had she so chosen.

He could have easily done the same were the situation reversed.

"Hey, kid," he said as she arrived beside him.

"I am not a kid," Laura said, a trace of irritation briefly appearing on her features, before vanishing back into the stony mask she typically wore and was so out of place on someone so young.

Logan quirked an amused smile, tempered by the knowledge of why her rebuttal was made so seriously. "You're close enough."

Laura looked down and hugged herself, her expression blank once again. He wasn't fooled, of course. For much of the last few decades he had buried the rage, at least during the rare times he didn't want the world to see it. In the last twelve or so years he had pushed it down more and more frequently as he rebuilt his life, rebuilt his family, but it was still there bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed at need and visible to anyone who knew him. He saw it in her as well, in the way she moved and carried herself, and could even smell it in her scent. But in Laura rage was a secondary emotion, forced down deep and smothered by pain and grief that she didn't mask nearly as completely as she thought. If one knew where to look, they didn't need to be an empath to see it.

Since the camp she had not talked about what had happened to her at all, forcing it all back down to fester again, and as he considered Xavier's and Jean's words he felt concern rising up. For all the rest that she was he could still see the vulnerable young girl she attempted to hide from the rest of the world, and Logan knew better than anyone how self-destructive what she was feeling could be if left buried.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. Logan could smell the lie on her but decided not to press.

He gave her a sympathetic frown, and gently took her by the shoulder. "C'mon, let's see about grabbin' something to eat. Feel like a trip to the city?"

Laura just shrugged.

"We'll make that a yes for now. Guess we'll have to work on the communication thing."

With an arm around her shoulders (she flinched away at first, before accepting the contact) the two started down the path.

###

Act IV

###

Logan and Laura left the pizzeria and stepped out into the night air. He fished into the pocket of his new jacket — he had given up entirely on the idea of asking Laura for his old one back — for a cigar and paused to light it up, then the two made their way up the street while Laura sipped at her soda.

"I'll talk to the Professor when we get back and get you added to these classes," he said. "So how are you holdin' up here?"

"I have doubts," she said glumly. "I am uncertain whether I belong there."

Logan nodded in understanding.

"So was I, at first. And maybe I still don't completely, which is why I've been more out than in. But they're good people who've helped me plenty. Xavier, Ororo, Marie, an' Kitty. Hell, even Cyclops, but not like I'll ever admit that to his face." He flashed her a grin, but if Laura found the comment amusing she didn't show it. "They can help you, too."

"I fear that it may be too late for me, and that I am beyond helping."

Logan stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. "Hey, don't say that about yourself. I know what you've gone through. I've been there. And if there's one thing they taught me it's that there's no one beyond helpin' who actually wants it. You have a chance for a normal life here. Well, at least as normal as it gets for people like us. I ain't saying it's gonna be easy, but don't give up on yourself."

Laura didn't respond at first, as if she were weighing his words carefully. "You will be there?"

He gave her a smile and nodded. "Often as I can. Like I said, I tend to be in and out, but if you ever need to talk I'll leave you a way to get in touch with me. You got a phone, right?"

"Yes," she said, hesitating a moment before adding, "Thank you."

They started up the street again. "Besides, those are some good kids," he said, "so you shouldn't have trouble makin' friends, and you might not even notice when I'm not in. Sooraya show you around?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "I think the two of you will get along pretty well."

"She made an effort, but I do not know if I made a good impression."

"Sooraya's got a good level head 'neath that niqab. Don't think there's much you can say to set her off."

Laura considered that. "She seemed understanding. As did Cessily. Mark...I was not sure what to make of."

Logan smirked around his cigar at her. Mark Sheppard's reputation preceded him, and even if Logan wasn't at the school very often, word did get back to him about the student body. "Started on you, did he?"

"It made me uncomfortable because of ..."

She trailed off and he was treated to the rare sight of her face coloring in embarrassment as memories she would rather not have resurfaced. Logan put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"I know," he said. "Don't worry about him, he didn't mean anything by it."

"I just do not know how to be around others."

He chuckled. "Hell kid, most teenagers don't. It's part of what bein' one is, so you're not laggin' as far behind the others as you think. Trust me, you're smart. You'll find yourself before long."

Laura nodded uncertainly and shrunk a bit into her jacket as they proceeded down the street.

###

Taylor leaned against the lamppost watching the front of the restaurant, the bill of his Yankees cap pulled down low over his eyes, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. He spent most of the day following her, and now everything was in place. If Reverend Stryker wanted the woman dealt with, he wouldn't let him down.

After a few more minutes of waiting Melita Garner exited the restaurant with a group of other people. She wore heels — excellent, that would make it harder for her to run — and a fashionable dress, and carried her purse slung across her body in a way that would protect it from anyone trying to snatch it. The group she was with split up after a few hugs and goodbyes, and Garner headed off alone up the street. Taylor let her get a short way ahead, just enough space that his pursuit wouldn't be obvious with the rest of the pedestrian traffic, and followed.

Garner arrived alone at a street corner to hail a cab, and Taylor quickly stepped up behind her. He pulled the snub nose revolver from inside his jacket and buried the muzzle in the small of her back. Garner's body went rigid and alarm spread across her features.

"Don't move," he hissed into her ear.

"There's two hundred in cash and my credit card in my purse," she said. "You don't need to pull that trigger."

"Shut up, this isn't a mugging. We're taking a nice, quiet walk to that alley over there." He motioned vaguely ahead of them and to their left.

Garner's eyes widened even further, and her face paled at the new fear entering her mind. While her thoughts were certainly inaccurate to what he intended, Taylor allowed her imagination to run away with her and dug the muzzle of his revolver deeper into her back. They started forward, and he positioned himself to hide the weapon in her back so casual passersby couldn't see it.

However, before they could reach the alley Garner stumbled, a bit too conveniently to have been natural, and enough to take her out of his line of fire. Before he could readjust his aim, he felt the impact of her elbow slamming into his gut, doubling him over and driving the air from his lungs. The next blow went to his chin — from the hardness and focus of the impact she must have gotten one of her shoes off and struck him with the heel — and snapped his head backwards. A final blow to the temple with her shoe sent him spinning into the pavement.

Dazed, Taylor struggled back to his feet and watched Garner take off running barefoot along the street. She passed the entrance to the alley and several other men emerged, staring in bewilderment between Taylor and Garner rushing past. He quickly pulled a phone from his pocket.

"Don't just stand there!" he snapped. "Go after her!"

The men took off in pursuit while he hastily dialed a number.

###

Melita fled down the street, her heart pounding in her throat at the realization she was being pursued. Another gang emerged around a corner, one talking on a phone, and shouted once they spotted her. She swore under her breath when they forced her to turn down an alley and cut off her original line of flight.

This wasn't a rape, these men were looking for me!

They followed her in, and she could hear the pounding of their feet echoing in the alley as they closed in behind her. Up ahead the first group reappeared, blocking her in. Melita skidded to a halt, skinning the soles of her bare feet on the pavement, and immediately looked for a weapon from among the rest of the trash strewn about. She grabbed a broken curtain rod, and started swinging at the first person to come within reach.

###

"This is unnecessary," Laura said, indicating the bags from Trash & Vaudeville she was carrying.

He glanced down at her in amusement, still chewing on his cigar. Logan didn't really get fashion, and there was much eye-rolling at some of what he had seen inside the two shops, but he decided her finding things that made her comfortable was worth it. However dark her personal style was, it still made her happy to have something of her own, or at least as close as he had seen her, and that was enough for him.

"You're kiddin' me, right?" he said. "You know the only people that wear the same thing every day are on TV and in comic books."

"I mean everything."

Logan sighed, guessing at her meaning.

"Yeah, it is necessary," he said. "You deserve better than what you've gotten, kid, and things I done are a big part of it."

"You were not responsible."

He gave her a significant look. "Neither were you, so ..."

Logan trailed off, and both he and Laura froze. A fight had a distinct sound to it, ways that one could estimate how many were involved on each side, and even who was winning. The sounds of the one carrying to him now were particularly one-sided, and there was something familiar about one of the voices...

"Logan ..." Laura started.

"Yeah, I hear it," he said. "C'mon." He hurried down the street, not needing to bother checking to see if Laura was keeping up with him.

###

Melita swung the curtain rod wildly. She managed to catch a couple of the thugs, knocking out teeth and bloodying noses, however there were too many for her, and eventually they managed to overwhelm her. She snarled furiously as she fought against them, until a sharp blow to the stomach drove the air from her lungs. She felt another sharp impact to the side of her head, and for a moment the darkened alley vanished in a blinding flash of light.

She was distantly aware of the ground rushing up to meet her, and splitting open the skin of her knees and cutting her palms on the pavement. Then she felt herself roughly hauled back to her feet before another blow to the face put the last of the fight out of her.

The haze began to clear, and she saw the man with the Yankees cap approach her, dabbing blood from his nose with one hand, and holding his revolver in the other.

"Goddamn mutie-lover," he said, and she practically recoiled at the hatred in his voice.

His gun-hand flew, whipping her across the face, and the world exploded with light. She felt the flesh of her cheek tear open when some part of the revolver made contact with skin, and the anger welling up over that was enough to snap her back to alertness. Melita recovered from the blow and spit the blood filling her mouth on him. It earned her another pistol-whipping, and this time she was left so dazed that she collapsed into the arms of the men holding her.

"Stupid bitch!" he snapped. "Betraying your own kind and running your mouth on shit you don't know anything about. It's time someone shut you up and put you back in your place."

The man raised his revolver and cocked back the hammer.

"I'd think twice, bub," a familiar voice said. Melita looked up, and through vision blurred from the blow to her head saw an equally familiar figure standing at the entrance to the alley. She managed a smile at the impending bloodbath.

"Oh, you're in for some real trouble now, honey," she said to her captor.

Logan's face twitched with barely restrained rage while he regarded the scene. A young girl of about sixteen or seventeen stood behind him, watching with an expression that almost seemed bored. The leader of her assailants turned his revolver on him. Against most people, the gesture would have been suitably threatening.

Logan was not most people.

"This is none of your business," the man said. "Turn around, and walk away."

"You gonna make me?"

Without further hesitation Taylor fired his revolver. The round struck Logan in the chest and staggered him momentarily, but he only growled, and his body pushed out the bullet and repaired the wound. A distinct metallic snikt filled the alley, his claws extended, and everything else became deathly silent.

"That the best you can do, bub?"

"Get that mutie freak!" the man yelled, and his men grabbed whatever weapons they could find, forgetting her to rush Logan as a mob.

###

Why do they always got to pull the trigger?

His private musings didn't last long after he popped his claws, and rather than the hoped-for response of the thugs panicking into flight they grabbed any weapon that came to hand and attacked. Logan managed a small grin. And he thought he'd be spending most of the night babysitting.

"Get back," he said with a glance down at Laura.

"But ..." she started in protest, and he made it clear he would have none of it.

"'But'" nothin'," he said. "Don't want you to have to be part of this."

He knew damn well Laura could take care of herself against this group, but that was beside the point. She shouldn't have to. She was just a goddamn kid.

Logan let that thought feed into the rage, the injustice of it mingled with the need to defend an old friend, stoking the flames roiling beneath the mask of calm. And then he unleashed it, wading into the gang and tearing through them with chilling ease.

The confines of the alley worked to his advantage. They couldn't circle around him, and the only way at him was a frontal attack. The men came expecting to beat up a lone, unarmed woman. What they got was three-hundred-odd pounds of muscle, rage, and adamantium-laced death.

He stepped under a ferocious haymaker and slashed out the back of the man's knee, putting him into the pavement. Another came at him with a lead pipe. Logan cut it in two and smashed the wielder's face in with his elbow. He rolled through them with speed belying his size, his claws flashing in the dim light of the alley. Blood sprayed across the walls, arcing in brilliant crimson arcs, and the coppery scent of it filled the air.

For his part Logan made an effort to avoid killing blows, focusing his efforts on disabling weapons and limbs. A decade ago he would have slaughtered them without a second thought, but times had changed. He had changed. And the girl in his charge needed to see that she could, too. Of course, self-preservation still took the lead over mercy, and a couple of the thugs went down with slashed necks and stabs to their chests.

The fight was over in moments, and soon he found himself standing over a pile of bodies. Most were still moving and groaning, crawling away or lying dazed at his feet.

"Logan!" Melita cried, and Logan immediately snapped his attention in her direction.

The man with the Yankees cap held her as a human shield with his revolver leveled at her temple. His eyes were wide with fright when Logan started towards him.

"Stay back or I'll splatter her brains all over the wall!" the man barked, and made a show of pressing the muzzle against Melita's temple.

Logan didn't even check his pace, and gave him his best enraged scowl. "Oh, you really don't want to be doin' that, bub," he snarled. "Your buddies got off easy. Pull that trigger and I'll cut you into little pieces and feed 'em back to you one by one."

The man tightened his grip on both Garner and his gun.

"I said stay b—"

He didn't have time to finish. A curtain rod struck the back of his outside knee, buckling it and driving him to the ground. His gun arm flew open in an effort to steady himself, and another blow shattered his wrist, sending the weapon clattering across the alley. A third strike to the back of his head put him down the rest of the way.

Laura emerged from behind Melita and stood over the man's prostrate form, holding the curtain rod in a relaxed guard at her shoulder. Logan had to admit being impressed. He didn't even see her move after the fight started, and she must have used the distraction to circle around behind him.

"Thought I told you to stay out of it?" he said instead, and retracted his claws. He did tell her, after all.

"Someone needed to secure the hostage," she said, as if it should have been blindingly obvious. "If it helps, I did not kill him."

Logan conceded the point with an exasperated grunt and hurried the rest of the way across the alley to Melita, who was leaning against a wall and trying to steady herself.

"You all right," he asked upon reaching her. She'd taken a few nasty blows to the side of the head, but otherwise seemed intact.

"I've got a splitting headache," she said. "But a couple aspirin and a stiff drink and I'll be good as new. How've you been, baby?"

Logan smirked. "Same as ever. Been a while."

She smiled back. "Yes, it has. I can't tell you just how glad I am to see you're back in town, though." She looked at Laura. "So who's your little friend?"

"I joined Big Brothers, Big Sisters," he said dryly. "Figured I oughta be given' back to the community. She's my Little Sister."

Melita rolled her eyes, not quite believing his story. "Right," she said doubtfully.

He took a quick look over his shoulder. Laura deftly stepped around the thugs sprawled across the alley, and those that were able to regain their feet and were able promptly fled, leaving the rest of their comrades behind. "So who'd you piss off this time?"

She sighed and rubbed her cheek. A nasty gash had been cut across it, which would probably require more than a few stitches to close and a little bit of reconstructive surgery to hide. Might talk to the Professor and see about having Josh Foley sent over to have a look.

"I don't know," she said. "I'd just finished having dinner with some friends and was looking for a cab, and the next thing I know this guy's got a gun in my back. I managed to get away from him only to learn he had friends. Apparently, he doesn't care much for my support for Mutant Rights."

"Yeah, I wonder ..."

The man in the Yankees cap began to stir. Logan stepped over to grab him, lifted him up, and pinned him against the wall. He slapped his cheek to rouse him, and upon returning to full consciousness he glared back at Logan with hate in his eyes.

"Hey, bub, wake up. So you just had your ass kicked by a ninety pound, five-foot-nothing, sixteen year-old girl," he said. "That's gonna be the high point of your evening if you don't cooperate, 'cause I'm thinking this wasn't just a random act of violence. Who sent you?"

"Screw you, freak," the man spat.

Logan sighed and made a show of his annoyance at that response. "Alright, I'll explain the rules to you. You got three chances ..." He placed a fist under the man's chin, aimed at his throat, and extended the left claw. It left a shallow cut along the side of his neck and blood began to flow. "...and that was one. So let's try it again: Who sent you?"

The man just glared at him defiantly, so Logan popped the right claw, leaving matching trails of blood streaming down his neck.

"Strike two," he snarled. "Last chance: Who sent you?"

The man once again refused to respond. Logan sighed, and extended the third claw into his throat. His body jerked and blood bubbled from his mouth, and Logan let him collapse to the ground, where he began to bleed to death onto the pavement.

Laura regarded his handiwork impassively. "That was unproductive," she said flatly.

"Usually they talk after number two," he said with a shrug. "C'mon, let's get out of here before someone comes along. We'll go out the back end."

Laura retrieved her shopping bags while Logan returned to Melita. She made a show of protesting despite her difficulty maintaining her feet, before allowing herself to be supported. The trio then exited the alley and hurried away from the scene.

###

There was a small outpatient clinic not far from the alley, so they needed not go far. A small but steady stream of patients and visitors moved in and out, and by the time they reached it Melita had sufficiently recovered that she could walk under her own power. A fact she had been repeating several times over the past fifteen or so minutes.

"How many times do I need to tell you, I'm fine," she protested.

Logan grunted. "Like hell you are," he said. "And make sure you report this."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. At least I can cover my own assault, maybe stir up at least a little outrage."

He flashed her a wry grin. "Ain't that what got you into this in the first place?"

She smiled back. "It's what I do. So get going, I'm sure you two won't want to be around when questions start flying."

"Right. Take care, it's good to see you again."

"Maybe next time it'll be under better circumstances. Nice to meet you, Laura."

Melita offered Laura a hand. The girl flinched back for a moment and regarded it warily, then slowly accepted it in a brief handshake. Melita gathered Logan into a friendly hug and gave him peck on the cheek, before finally making her way towards the hospital entrance.

"Think we've had enough fun for one night," he said. "Let's get back to the school and get you settled in."

They watched Melita go to make sure she made it inside without trouble, then Logan put an arm around Laura's shoulder and led her up the street.

###

Act V

###

The next morning found Cessily sitting on the couch in the lounge. Julian sat next to her idly spinning the remote control through the air. They had a few minutes before they had to head to class, and Cessily wanted to catch the news. Julian didn't argue, and instead slumped on the couch next to her, his expression downcast.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. By now most of the school had heard about his argument with Sofia, and as usual it had quickly escalated from a simple spat to the potential for wind- and telekinetically-flung projectiles, and yet another breakup. Oh, she was certain that by the end of the week the two would be back together. Again. But Julian's ego so rarely allowed him to actually show when he'd been hurt that the times it did slip through made her hurt for him as well.

He didn't want to talk about it, of course, but he at least accepted a friendly comforting hug.

Cessily turned her attention back to the television, where Melita Garner sat at a desk with other newscasters, her injuries from the night before clearly evident on her face. With a handful of telepaths in the school it didn't take long for the news to filter down she had been attacked by anti-mutant extremists before they in turn ran afoul of an angry Wolverine. The biggest surprise when she caught the actual report on TV this morning was that most of the assailants actually got off with their lives and limbs intact.

"...and how bad has the situation deteriorated when you have people being assaulted on a public street for voicing an opinion?" Garner was saying. Her face was battered and swollen in a few places, and she wore a bandage on her cheek, but the reporter had insisted on appearing anyway. Cessily admired the courage that showed, but she wondered if there was another purpose for it. She guessed that showing what had been done to her would create a bit of shock and outrage.

"The pattern we've been seeing in the past years is not unlike the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s," she continued, "Where gangs of thugs feel free to use threat of violence to incite fear and silence opposing voices.

"I'm only thankful that at least one anonymous citizen realized what was happening and had the courage to come to my aid. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for showing that the capacity for doing the right thing isn't determined by race, religion, or gender, mutant or not."

Laura entered the lounge just before Garner finished her report, gliding in with complete silence and carrying her backpack on one shoulder. Cessily waved at her and smiled in greeting.

"Good morning!" she said cheerily. "How was your first night?"

"Uneventful," Laura said with a glance at the television.

Cessily regarded her for a moment. She'd heard from Sooraya that Logan would be taking Laura into town the night before, so almost certainly she would have seen the fight. She waved the matter off. Laura was just a kid, after all, and she knew Logan would never have taken her into a situation that would put her at risk. "That's good to hear. We'll have you completely settled in in no time. You've met Julian."

Laura's green eyes fixed on him for a moment, before returning to her. "Yes," she said.

"Can you even construct a sentence longer than one word?" Julian growled irritably. Cessily rolled her eyes. Julian no doubt was blaming his latest quarrel with Sofia on the new girl. As if to emphasize his displeasure, he sent the remote flying at Laura's head with a casual flick of the wrist. And she just as casually snatched it out of the air without even flinching.

Neither of them could do much more than stare open-mouthed for a moment at the speed of her reaction, and it was a moment before Cessily could find her voice.

"Julian! Do you have to be an ass every waking minute of the day?" she snapped, giving him a sisterly swat to the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Laura."

Laura merely shrugged and casually tossed the remote back to Julian. He fumbled it, drawing an irritated murmur from him.

She watched him flail for control of the remote for a moment, then turned her attention back to Cessily. "I will be attending class with you this morning," she said.

Cessily smiled. "Hey that's great! There's an empty seat next to me. We have a lab today so I can help you get caught up. Julian and I just finished breakfast, so we can all head over together."

Julian shot Cessily an annoyed look at being volunteered, at which she flashed him a smirk. If Laura noted the exchange, she didn't show it.

"Very well," she said. "We should go, I do not like to be late."

Cessily gleefully jumped off the couch, and practically dragged Julian with her. He managed a yelp of protest and stumbled until he caught up with her. "I just know you're going to love it here!" she said, giving Laura a broad smile.

"I will try," Laura said.

Cessily took Laura on one arm and Julian on the other, and, ignoring Julian's exasperated expression, lead the pair out of the lounge.


A Note From The Author (9/15/24)

And here we see how the series begins in this freshly reedited edition of X-Men: New Class.

The very first version of the story was actually written in script form, before I decided to rewrite it in prose. When I originally published the pilot, Days of Future Past had yet to be released, so instead I assumed that many events would play out largely the same in broad strokes. In my interpretation Xavier and Cyclops survived, though Jean's death at the end of X2 stood (the conversation with Jean and Logan in this version was instead Logan visiting Jean's memorial at the mansion in the earliest drafts). I tried to be deliberately vague enough that The Wolverine and Days of Future Past could potentially fill in some gaps in the background, but most was written based on the state of the characters at the end of X2. Stryker's flashback was the result of rewatching the end of X2, which never actually showed him being killed, so this was my best effort at a plausible explanation how he could have survived.

Obviously, once Days of Future Past actually came out, I had some rewriting to do, so X3 has largely been erased from continuity altogether, though I kept the first two films, with the obvious difference that circumstances changed for Jean to survive those events. The revised version of episode 1 posted in July, 2014.

One of the things I've kind of gone back and forth on as I've been working on the series was how much to use the cast of the films. Patrick Stewart is one of the awesomest guys on the face of the planet, and I have no doubts at all that he'd be totally game for reprising Xavier on the small screen. However, I can't imagine anyone else as Wolverine than Hugh Jackman. I had to include Logan, if for no other reason than to have a big guest-star to help launch the series, and of course I gave him a big part to play in the fourth act. Then again, you never know and Jackman might be willing to do it just to have fun with it. Additionally, the line between TV and film acting has blurred, and there's many big-name actors who have been starring on TV and streaming (incidentally, I wrote this before streaming really took off, and in hindsight this concept might work particularly well for a D show).

Kitty, obviously, would now have to be recast with due respect to Elliot Page (he had not yet come out as trans at the time I first began the story). Also expect Rogue to pop up (Anna Paquin is already primarily a TV actress, so I'd imagine getting her to appear wouldn't be too hard) among a few other surprises.

Originally, the film characters weren't going to have as big of a role in the series as what ended up happening, though the focus still primarily centers on the kids.

You've also now got a taste of how characters from the comics will be fit into the series. There's some definite departures right from the very start, but my aim is to stay as faithful to the characterizations as I can while adapting the characters, their relationships, and their stories. I'm well-aware that Mark Sheppard and Laura Kinney never got the chance to interact, but in this universe I think there's potential to have some fun with how they might have. There will be some other minor tweaks here and there as well, but my intent is to avoid the drastic character derailment that occurred in X3, so any changes I make will try to have some sort of specific logic behind them.

Obviously, Laura is the main focus of this episode and is going to be one of the main characters of the series, and I'll admit that I'm an X-23 fan. I'm also aware of how troublesome of a character she can be. Laura is a game-breaker. Threats that might be at the limits of the rest of the kids' capabilities are trivial for her, so that's something I'll need to figure out. I'm also aware that her development has often been handled poorly in the books. Obviously, this will just be my take on her character, but I'm hoping that my treatment is able to both do justice to what is gotten right, while also rectifying many of the problems.

Right away I decided I wanted to keep her nature as vague as possible for as long as possible, in part to keep her from overwhelming the rest of the cast. I didn't even write parts of any episodes from her perspective for most of the first season for this very reason. Remember, I'm not just writing this for people already familiar with the characters, but with the idea that it's for an audience who might know the X-Films but little else.

This episode also introduces about a third of the main cast. Because of its size, there may be some characters who don't appear in every episode.

There's a few things that are kind of funny/sad in hindsight as I did some minor reediting in 2024, particularly with Melita's comments about the media, her working for Fox, (which began as a simply in-joke since 20th Century Fox was producing the X-Men films, and the fact that she's considerably more liberal in her views than you'd expect from Fox News) and her remarks about people being threatened for expressing opinions. There's quite a few other things I was doing that ended up being strangely prophetic. So I guess it's not just The Simpsons that can predict the future.

Well, now that I've written an entire DVD commentary worth of notes, I hope you enjoyed the "Pilot." Stay tuned!